


dancing when it's raining

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Crack, M/M, This is crack, and tchalla is a beautiful babe, despite rain being in the title its not about rain, idk how to tag this truly but Bucky's a mess, meet ugly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6814597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which bucky barnes throws up on a criminally hot stranger's shoes and it still works in his favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tori107](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tori107/gifts).



> i didn't even read this over once and i might soon but not right now lmao. m going for meet ugly and this is definitely ugly lmao and not exactly like my previous tchucky fics so ??
> 
> it's dedicated to trash queen and my tchucky bub kj

It's probably a bad idea for a normal person to leave the house on their deathbed. Okay, so that sounds a tad bit dramatic but Bucky's been on the heavier side of nauseous all day and his head feels like it’s swimming but he decides to get up anyway.

The truth is, he wasn't planning on leaving the apartment at all, really. He's so sick he's pretty sure he's getting closer to death, one sneeze at a time. But Sam forgot the grapes and yeah, he brought Bucky saltwater candy and a carton of orange juice but he forgot the grapes so Bucky’s feeling annoyed and grossly sick as he yanks his hair back into a bun and slithers into his hoodie, stalking out of the shared apartment to buy some fucking grapes.

Today he's buying his own grapes, tomorrow he's going to have to cook his own dinner, he thinks miserably.

His annoyance melts after he's picked out his grapes, the red ones with seeds and a package of green ones too, just because he wants to. Bucky’s excited about enjoying his grapes when he gets back to the apartment because he's not a fruit kind of guy but grapes are an exception. He leaves the grocery store feeling happier, despite the fact that he feels like he's going to puke all over the sidewalk.

Maybe because he's so distracted that he doesn't notice that he's crossed while the light is still green until there's a sharp yell behind him and someone grabs his bicep tightly, pulling Bucky back to the curb. The car that literally almost hit him whizzes past his nose.

Bucky almost drops the bag of grapes in shock as the man who grabbed him finally lets go, concern washing over his features.

“You need to watch where you’re stepping.” He says carefully and Bucky licks his lips, dazed.

He nods, absently and manages to open his dumb mouth to apologize or say thanks or even ask permission to sit on his dick.

“Shit, thank you.” He says, blowing out a breath he doesn't realize is choking him and then tries to smile, despite almost being hit by a car.

There's a pause, the man tips his head down and accepts Bucky’s gratefulness and then smiles. Bucky grins nervously, shuffling.

“That was close.” He says.

And then he throws up on the man’s shoes.

It's not much, really. Bucky hadn't eaten all day, only the spicy noodle soup Sam put in the fridge as he left for classes, “eat it, white boy, if that doesn't fix your deadass then you can curse my ma yourself.” He’d said as he left.

The soup had been helpful but right now it's all over the poor guy’s shoes and when Bucky stops heaving, he feels his fingers tighten instinctively on the bag of grapes. Which should be the least of his concerns right now but, priorities.

“Oh man.” He croaks, unable to make eye contact because he _threw up_ on a hot ass stranger’s shoes and he's pretty sure he's going to be sick again.

The guy gapes slightly, eyes shifting from his feet covered in Sam’s ma’s spicy noodle soup and Bucky’s stomach acid to Bucky’s face, brows knitting together tightly.

“You are not well.” He murmurs slightly, his accent is thick, Bucky realizes, at the worst of times.

“I’m fine.” Bucky waves a hand and then looks back to the unappealing mess of the man’s shoes and then frowns, “fuck, man, oh geez I'm so _sorry_ —” he gets cut off when the man touches his shoulder and shakes his head.

His stomach feels fragile, like he's going to heave at the slightest of movements and any hopes of sitting on that dick are now gone. Poof. Disappeared into thin air with all of Bucky’s dignity. Not that he should be thinking of dicks right now at all but he's a natural at thinking about everything except the topic.

“You are not well.” The man says again, tilting his head back, “please, let me walk you home.”

“You need new shoes,” Bucky protests, “I’ll be fine. Just let me pull out my wallet…” He trails off, digging out his wallet because yeah, those shoes look expensive but Bucky did throw up all over them so he has to pay for new ones. The guy was just trying to help Bucky and he ended up having spicy noodle soup on his nice shoes and this all started because Bucky wanted some fucking grapes.

“Let me walk you home.” He says again, more firmly and Bucky should be worried that he's going to let a stranger walk him home, it's New York for Christ’s sake but instead he nods, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. The wind blows steadily, loosening wisps of his hair from his bun.

“My name is T’Challa,” the guy says when Bucky points to the general direction of his apartment building.

“Bucky,” he replies warily and keeps a cautious eye on T’Challa, making sure he isn't standing close enough for some other…accidents.

Eventually, T’Challa manages to guide Bucky with only a few steadying touches when he gets a little dizzy to his apartment door.

“Thank you, T’Challa,” Bucky says honestly once he's by his door and realizes he's going to miss the company. T’Challa spoke idly as they'd walked, about how much he enjoyed Central Park and about how the weather is nice. Bucky liked it, having something to focus on when he just wants to drop to the ground and sleep for a year.

“You should come inside,” Bucky offers nervously, before he can change his mind, “you can change your shoes.”

T’Challa considers it and then nods, “of course.”

Bucky sends eternal thanks to Sam who had cleaned the apartment last night but Bucky’s dishes are still in the sink and his gym sweats hang off the arm of the couch.

“Sorry.” He mutters, embarrassed as he shoves the sweats into his gym bag and pushes it to the side.

“Very cozy.” T’Challa says with a slight nod, eyes gleaming.

Bucky hands T’Challa a plastic bag as he slips his shoes off, not moving from the door. Bucky guesses it’s because he doesn't want to track vomit onto the carpet. He uses the bag to lift the shoes and then puts them in, tying the bag and then motions to it.

“Where can I dispose of these?” He asks and Bucky points dumbly to the big garbage can by the back door. Those shoes don't look cheap but if T’Challa’s throwing them out then it means Bucky’s going to have to pay him for ruining them.

“How much were they?” Bucky asks, patting his pocket and pulling his wallet out.

“$1 789.” T’Challa replies as he disposes of the soiled shoes and Bucky chokes on his own spit.

“One thousand?” He sucks in a sharp breath and now he's feeling _really_ feverish. T’Challa turns around, spotting Bucky’s pathetic wallet in his pathetic hands and then frowns.

“You do not have to pay me for those.” T’Challa says slowly, and Bucky shakes his head quickly, “I don't know if you remember, but I threw up all over them.” He responds.

Bucky’s going to be living off of Sam’s credit card for the next month.

“You were not well.” He says simply and then plucks Bucky’s wallet from his hands. His fingers are warm and calloused, Bucky notices belatedly as T’Challa puts it on the coffee table along with Bucky’s bag of grapes.

“You are burning up, Bucky.” T’Challa looks worried despite knowing Bucky for only half an hour and Bucky throwing up on him.

“I bought these before and I can buy them again.” He continues when he notices that Bucky isn't very convinced. He doesn't sound like he's boasting at all about how much money he has, just like he's focused on making Bucky understand.

T’Challa raises an eyebrow when Bucky opens his mouth to protest and Bucky shrinks and then nods. His head throbs slightly and his mouth feels like it's coated in a thick layer of slime.

“You can stay,” Bucky blurts, “I have to take a shower but please, make yourself at home.” He looks down at T’Challa’s socked feet, “I can take you out for some coffee, for saving me from being hit.”

There's a small sigh and T’Challa speaks, “I must be going, Bucky. But thank you for your hospitality.” Bucky wants to retaliate by reminding him about who's shoes are in the trash but keeps quiet.

He's disappointed but he nods.

“But I would like to take you up on the offer,” he continues, “please, I would love for you to join me for some coffee sometimes.” He pulls out his phone and holds it out to Bucky.

He types in his number and then smiles at the text T’Challa sends him.

“I must leave now, but take some medicine and I will text you soon, alright?” He touches Bucky’s shoulder lightly and Bucky nods, leading him to the door.

T’Challa isn't wearing casual clothes, he's wearing a fancy suit so Bucky pulls out his only pair of dress shoes, patented black leather and sets them down.

“Here you go.” Bucky says and bites his lip as T’Challa slips them on.

Bucky watches as T’Challa smiles once more, soft and crooked, the corner of his mouth lifting just barely and then he's gone.

(Bucky gets a text when he's in the shower and almost falls on his ass trying to get to his phone but who's watching?)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this was supposed to be two parts but mmmm??? Maybe it'll be okay as three idk. It's super ooc bc im too lazy to write in canon lately tbh 
> 
> im gonna proof read these two chapters when i get home cos im a million% sure i made a lot of grammar and spelling mistakes :-))

“You threw up on him?” Sam cackles, collapsing into the couch beside Steve.

“On his shoes, Sam, there's a difference.” Steve pipes and Bucky throws the remote at him. He ducks with a laugh, obviously enjoying Bucky’s misery.

“Wait, so Bucky gets to throw up on a hot guy and still manages to score a date?” Sharon quips from where she's kneeling by the TV, fiddling with the DVD player.

“Where are that guy’s standards?” Sam wheezes. He's doubled over on the couch, laughing at something Steve said. Bucky doesn't even want to know.

Bucky snuggles deeper into the love seat, flicking a piece of popcorn at Sharon.

“His standard are fine and I hate you all.” He announces, and Sharon throws him a smirk.

“He actually likes me, okay, I’m not the worst catch out there.” He adds unnecessarily, trying to defend T’Challa’s standards from the onslaught of his friends.

It hadn’t taken Sam long to realize Bucky was in dreamland for the last couple of days, mostly in thought about T’Challa. It makes him sound like a 14 year old girl with a high school crush but that’s exactly how he feels. T’Challa and him text frequently, a couple times a day because T’Challa’s busy signing for his father’s deal. They’re only in New York on business and only plan on staying until the end of next week.

Bucky’s upset that T’Challa was going back to Wakanda, his homecountry, but he's glad they’ll be able to have their coffee date tomorrow.

He shakes his thoughts away from T’Challa’s criminally beautiful face(seriously? Is Bucky going to start writing poetry about him now?) and focuses on the dumb movie playing on the TV.

Bucky attends his classes the next day, only half paying attention and mostly doodling instead of taking notes until Sam starts poking him with a pen out of his own boredom. They only have one class together and normally, Bucky would be shit talking everyone in the class and making Sam stifle his laughter but today he just wants it to be over.

They’re supposed to meet up at a local coffee joint that’s cozy enough, nestled in a secluded area with decent coffee. Bucky’s dressed in a pair of black jeans and a casual button down, hair pulled into a nicer bun.

He takes a seat on a table by the window and orders his coffee while he waits for T’Challa. Bucky’s leg bounces nervously on instinct because he's about to have coffee with the poor target of Bucky’s puke and he could hardly stand looking at T’Challa then but now they're about to have coffee together.

T’Challa walks in hesitantly, brightening instantly when he spots Bucky.

Bucky’s heart flutters. 

T’Challa’s wearing much more casual clothes today, dark jeans and a dark hoodie, hair looking adorably fluffy. He sits on the opposite end of Bucky, signalling for the waitress.

“Black coffee, please.” He asks and she nods, disappearing behind the counter.

“Hi.” Bucky says shyly, suddenly more nervous because this is so much more different than text.

“Hello, Bucky.” T’Challa smiles again and Bucky wants to snap a picture because it's not possible for someone to have such a wide and genuine smile despite his normally closed off appearance.

“How're you feeling.” T’Challa asks casually, leaning comfortably into his seat. He looks so much more off guard right now, not like when they’d first met.

“I’m doing okay,” Bucky answers truthfully then grins, “casual looks good on you.” It comes out more flirty than he intends but T’Challa doesn't look like he minds.

The waitress brings T’Challa’s coffee and Bucky takes the moment to sip his own. It scalds his tongue.

“Believe it or not, I don't always have a stick up my ass.” T’Challa replies, amused and Bucky chuckles. It's weird, hearing T’Challa speak so freely.

He raises his hands in defence.

“How’s the deal going?” Bucky asks lightly, not wanting to probe into anything that isn't his business but he figures if he can help take some stress off then he might as well.

“It is being held up, actually.” T’Challa admits and then waves a hand slightly, taking a sip from his coffee, “I do not want to bore you with business talk.” He says.

Bucky wants to reply by telling him that he's more than willing to listen but decides against it.

“How are your classes?” T’Challa asks and Bucky shrugs, “it's okay, I mean, I’m working on some projects and hopefully I can show them to clients soon.”

T’Challa only nods in understanding and for a couple of moments, they bask in their silence, the chatter of the other costumers and the soft blues crooning from the speakers in the shop.

“You’re leaving next week.” Bucky points out, trying not to let his disappointment bleed into his words. If he had enough time he could build it up with T’Challa and hopefully ask him out but he can't if T’Challa’s leaving so soon.

“I am.” T’Challa responds. He reaches forward slightly and touches Bucky’s palm, “but I haven't seen much in New York yet,” a pause, “perhaps you can show me around?”

His eyes flicker from where they're connected to T'Challa’s face and he nods, swallowing.

“Yeah, T’Challa, I will.” He adds and T’Challa pulls away, satisfied.

“I’m glad.” T’Challa states simply and reaches for his coffee.

They mostly talk about T’Challa’s life, probably because Bucky’s life is boring and consists of the same clumsy stories with the same three people in each one. T’Challa tells Bucky about Wakanda and all of the beautiful nature spots, “you should visit,” he adds as an afterthought and Bucky feels his ears burn. He also talks about his father’s company, mining the precious metal only found in Wakanda. He doesn't mention more, it's probably classified business talk that Bucky shouldn't know and he's fine with that.

Eventually T’Challa has to leave so he can get ready for dinner with a few government officials and Bucky doesn't feel as upset as he would've. He’s had his date and his time with T’Challa and it was more than enough, especially for being the guy who threw up on T’Challa’s shoes.

“I like you, Bucky.” T’Challa says softly when Bucky insists on paying for their coffees and pastries. It's literally 10 bucks and it's the least he can do.

Bucky grins excessively, trying to hide his bubbling feelings. He's not sure if T’Challa is queer or even if he likes Bucky the way Bucky absolutely adores him. They stand and Bucky pulls T’Challa into a side hug. He smells like woody cologne and like lemony shampoo. Bucky tries not to clutch T’Challa like he wants to never let go because he's warm and solid, and instead tears himself away.

“We’re going to be great friends,” he jokes and T’Challa looks confused momentarily but snaps back, eyes glazing over neutrally and he nods.

“Of course. Great friends.”

T’Challa leaves the coffee shop with a short, tight smile and Bucky can't help but feel like it's because of something he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aye i hope u enjoyed <3333

**Author's Note:**

> pls!! let me know what you think :))))


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